Zollen zei vissen ver iz di balebus

When R’ Reuven was in NY, he spent as much time as possible with the Rebbe, and grabbed every opportunity possible to see the Rebbe again and again. On those nights that there was yechidus, meaning that the Rebbe would be spending most (or all) of the night receiving people for yechidus. R’ Reuven would spend the night at 770, waiting for the Rebbe to leave – at the end of yechidus – to go home, so that he could see the Rebbe leaving 770.

One particular night of yechidus, in the middle of the night, police cars suddenly appeared, and sealed off any access to the entire block of Eastern Parkway. This was followed by a helicopter materializing and hovering just above 770. On a few rooftops he was able to spot snipers that seemed to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. And then some security personnel arrived, and were obviously scrutinizing the steps and approach to 770 for any signs of suspicion.

Then 3 Rolls Royce’s drove up, and a few men emerged and walked directly into the Rebbe’s room. They spent some time there, and then came out and were driven away.

R’ Reuven’s curiosity was piqued. He had a special privilege of enjoying an “open door” policy, i.e., he had permission to come into the Rebbe whenever he wished, and he took advantage of that privilege at this time. He walked into the Rebbe, and asked “Who were those men?”

The Rebbe enlightened him: “They are scientists who work for the government in the field of atomic energy. They encountered a difficulty that they couldn’t resolve, and they came to ask for my assistance”.

“And did the Rebbe help them?” asked R’ Reuven, intrigued.

“Yes”, he was told.

Shocked, he could not contain himself, and blurted out: “Why did the Rebbe help them, atomic bombs are so dangerous and cause so much damage and devastation?!”

The Rebbe gave him 3 reasons: “Firstly, their research is for peaceful uses”.

“Secondly, America is a malchus shel chesed, a government that has a history of doing so much to support and assist Torah and mitzvos in so many ways, and I felt it’s only right to help them where possible”.

“And thirdly”, the Rebbe concluded, “zollen zei vissen ver iz di balebus!” [- let them know who is in charge!]  

Worth Being Embarrassed

R’ Hillel Paritcher, who was one of the renowned Chassidim of the Alter Rebbe, the Mitteler Rebbe and the Tzemach tzedek, used to travel around from place to place as a “shadar” (a shliach of the Rebbeim) to influence and inspire Chassidim.

One of the main subjects that R’ Hillel would address with his listeners was the subject of avodas hatefila. One of the focal points of chassidus (as is known, - the reason the Alter Rebbe chose to go to Mezeritch as opposed to Vilna was in order to learn about avodas hatefila), R’ Hillel would encourage and exhort the Chassidim to place more effort and attention into concentrating on their davening.

In one of the cities that he would visit, he came to them once, and they complained to him: ‘We’re working and working on our davening as you instructed us, ober ess geit nisht” [but it’s not going].

R’ Hillel listened to their concerns, and responded: “At least now you have what to be embarrassed about”!

Directed by the Rebbe

It was a few days before Pesach, and a chossid from Arizona was passing by the Rebbe. The Rebbe, unexpectedly, stopped the chossid and remarked: “You are going to ____ (here the Rebbe named a small city in Texas), I would like you to bring these 2 pounds of Matzos to ____ (here the Rebbe named a person living in that city).

The chosid made a quick calculation. The small city in Texas that the Rebbe had named did not have direct flights, neither from NY nor to Arizona. To travel there in person would mean to lose 2 complete days, which would result in him arriving home Erev Pesach. He didn’t think that he could manage that. He did, however, attach great importance to the personal shlichus that was given to him by the Rebbe, so he decided that as soon as he would arrive home, he would go straight to the post office and ship the package to the desired destination.

(as if the Rebbe couldn’t have had it shipped without that chossid)

This chossid duly boarded his flight with the precious package, and began his journey to his own hometown. However, en route they encountered an unexpected difficulty: The plane suddenly developed engine trouble, and the captain instructed everyone to fasten their seat belts, because they would need to make an emergency landing. As the passengers complied, the captain got onto the loudspeaker again, and informed them where they would be making their unscheduled stopover for repairs. And – you guessed it – it was none other than in the small municipal airport in the small city in Texas to which the Rebbe had originally sent the chossid!

Now, we can think that, under these circumstances, the chossid would get the message to stop fighting his destiny, and to resolve, instead, to obey his instructions. But our chossid had other ideas: Now he was losing even more time, and a detour was even less feasible (even though he was already in the right locality). He still retained his initial plan, to send the package by post.

While he was in the airport with his fellow passengers, waiting for their aircraft to be declared sky-worthy, he was approached by a local Jew. “Are you Rabbi ___”, he was asked. “Do you have a package for me?”

That’s right, that person was his intended recipient, who came to the chossid to pick up his matzos!

Excuses

Rabbi Berel Zaltzman was born and raised in the former Soviet Union and was very active in the religious underground network there, even hosting a Yeshiva in his home for a number of years. He emigrated from Russia to Israel with his wife and 6 children in 1971, and has been involved in the various shlichuyos of the Rebbe since. In addition to being a respected chassidisher Yid, Rabbi Zaltzman is renowned as a talented and inspiring Chazan

When R’ Berel came to New York the first time, he had the zechus to have a yechidus with the Rebbe. During the yechidus, the Rebbe instructed him to hold concerts, and also to produce a record. R’ Berel set to work immediately carrying out the directives of the Rebbe.

Now, you should know that producing a record is not as easy as it sounds. There is much work that has to go into it, as well as considerable financial investment.

About a year later, R’ Berel was by the Rebbe again for Tishrei, and, during his yechidus, was able to report on having carried out the Rebbe’s directives. The Rebbe then told him to produce a 2^nd record. Rabbi Zaltzman at that time was still in debt from the first record, and, in addition, his own business was not doing very well, and he was struggling with his own livelihood. Thus, the new directive of the Rebbe sounded rather overwhelming.

When he returned to Eretz Yisroel (where he was living at the time), he discussed the matter with a number of his mashpi’im and some of the Eltere Chassidim. All of them, without exception, told him very emphatically that it was very obvious that the Rebbe did not mean for him to work on another record now, in his current situation, when it would be an unreasonable undertaking for him, and his material circumstances did not allow for it. At some later stage, he would be able to return to it. He followed their sage advice, and postponed the new project indefinitely.

The following Tishrei, he once again joined other Chassidim in their trip to the Rebbe, and had the great zechus of a yechidus with the Rebbe. At the beginning of the yechidus (Oh NO) the Rebbe asked him about the new record. When R’ Berel didn’t answer, the Rebbe exclaimed: “You didn’t make it? Why not?!” R’ Berel continued to stand silently, and the Rebbe said to him “Ohn a farvos?!” [You won’t even give some reason/excuse]

Rabbi Zaltzman saw that the Rebbe wanted an explanation, so he told the Rebbe about his difficult financial situation, as well as the debts that remained from the first record, that precluded him working on a new one at this point. 

The Rebbe listened to his explanations, and exclaimed in wonder: “Mit Stalin hostu zich gekent an eitzah geben, un du kenst zich nit geben kein eitzah mit a por toizent doller??!!” [Against Stalin you managed to hold your own, and you couldn’t deal with a challenge of a few thousand dollars].

[Needless to say, immediately following that yechidus he put together the necessary resources and, in a short time, took care of the second record].

The Horse

Once there was a Jew, we’ll call him Yossel, who made his living as a horse-thief. He would travel from town to town, and wherever there was a horse that was not well enough guarded, he would find his way to it and take possession of it, after which he would sell it for a handsome profit.

One day, Yossel heard that Yankel, a farmer in one village, had 4 horses, and that he was careless with their protection. That night, Yossel made his way stealthily into Yankel’s barn, and located the horses. Sure enough, the stalls were all unlocked, and Yossel picked one of the horses. With the help of an apple and some sugar, Yossel ensured full cooperation of the horse, and in no time he had relocated the horse to his own barn.

Encouraged by the ease with which his operation succeeded, Yossel decided to return for a second horse. However, here he met with resistance. The horse became alarmed, being approached by someone he didn’t recognize, and started raising a ruckus. The noise woke Yankel, who ran to the barn to see what the commotion was all about. To his amazement, he saw a man standing there, and a horse missing.

“Who are you?” asked the startled Yankel, “and . . where is my horse?!”

The quick-witted horse thief looked at him, and replied quietly: “I am your horse.”

“Wha . . what are you talking about?” exclaimed the confused farmer.

“Listen to me, and I’ll tell you my story. I once committed a grave sin, and it was decreed that I come down to the earth in the form of a horse in order to atone for my sin through my suffering. What you believed was your horse, was in fact me getting my atonement. Boruch Hashem today my sin is cleansed, and I was able to return to my original form”.

The gullible farmer swallowed the tall tale trustingly, and became at once devastated. “Oy, I feel terrible”, he cried, all these years that I beat you and whipped you, I had no idea that your really a person. I feel terrible about it”. Yossel tried to calm him, explaining that this was all Hashem’s decree, but the farmer remained mortified, and insisted on trying to make it up to him at least somewhat. So Yossel was invited into his house, and served a sumptuous meal, and then pressed to accept some money as a token of Yankel’s remorse.

When Yossel finally left, he decided that it was not a bad night of business after all; - he came away with a good meal and a nice sum of money. In addition he still had the 1^st horse, which he proceeded to sell the next day to a horse dealer.

In the meantime, Yankel was still short a horse, and at the first opportunity he visited the horse dealer to get it replaced. He starts to look around, and, imagine his shock to find there none other than his own original horse!

At first he was flabbergasted, but when he got back his voice, he walked over to the horse, patted it on the back, and exclaimed: “Ferd Ferd, ein tog bizt du geven a mentch, un du bizt shoin gevoren tzurik a ferd??!!!” [Horse horse, for one day you were a mentch, and already you went back to being a horse!].

Go out into the street and shout that you need help!

In the early years of the nesius of the Rebbe, there was a family in Crown Heights that was struggling. Their financial situation was tight, and this resulted in their being unable to hire help in their home. It was a household that was blessed with many children BH, and the house was a constant scene of chaos. Needless to say, the frazzled mother was very harried.

The family were not Lubavitcher Chassidim (like the majority of the families in Crown Heights at the time), but they had heard of the “new” Lubavitcher Rebbe, and some acquaintances were encouraging them to seek his advice and brocho. The husband was against the idea, not believing that any benefit would come from it, but his wife was at her wits end, and, desperate for some solution, she decided to try it.

When she came into yechidus, she told the Rebbe about her problem, expressing the fact that she was desperately in need of help. The Rebbe turned to her and said: “You need help? Then go out into the street and shout that you need help!”

The woman left the yechidus rather puzzled, and called her husband to relate what happened. Her husband laughed at her. “You see”, he said, “I told you that there’s no point in going to the Lubavitcher Rebbe; if you wanted to do something crazy you could have done so on your own”.

The woman, however, had more emunas tzaddikim than her husband (or perhaps she was just more desperate), and she decided to carry out the Rebbe’s instructions. She went out into the street, and began to scream that she needs help.

Suddenly a black man came over to her and asked her what she needs. She told him that her house was in complete turmoil, that she wasn’t coping, and that she was in desperate need of help. “I can probably help you”, he told the startled woman, “let me just check with my Mum”. Sure enough, the next day, bright and early, their newly hired black worker was putting the house in order.

The things he did in the house were - for the woman - a lifesaver. But she was still very nervous; - who knows how much he’ll charge at the end of the week, and they, after all, could not afford to pay (which was the reason they hadn’t hired help until then).

At the end of the first week, the woman (with no small measure of trepidation) approached her shvartze and asked him how much she has to pay him. “Just buy me a bottle of whiskey” was his reply. The woman was delighted. She had had housework for a week practically for nothing.

However, as he began working the second week, she began to worry again. ‘This week he’ll surely demand pay’, she thought to herself, ‘and I’ll have nothing to give him’. But her fears were again completely unfounded. At the end of the week, the worker once again informed his grateful employer that all she owed him was a bottle of booze.

This went on for about 30 years! At the end of that period, the woman passed away. Shortly thereafter, the black worker passed on as well. [Some Chassidim remarked, regarding this story: The Maharal created a golem that couldn’t speak, but the Rebbe created one that could speak].

Gifting the Rebbe

R’ Avremel Zaltzman was a yungerman about 5 years after his chasunah, and, sadly, there were no children. They had been to physicians, but to no avail. One top doctor examined them and stated unequivocally “When hair grows on my palm, then you may have children”.

It was Ellul (before Tishrei of 5686 or 5687), and Avremel was filled with a great Chassidic longing to travel to Leningrad, and to spend Tishrei with the Rebbe. He approached his young wife and shared his thoughts with her, and she was fully supportive, encouraging him to indeed follow his heart, and spend the Yomim Tovim with the Rebbe.

But Avremel still looked downcast. ‘How can I go to the Rebbe empty-handed’ he asked her, ‘I must bring something to the Rebbe’,

But, while she emphasized with him, she did not see any practical solution, living as they did in abject poverty. “You can take anything from our house and pawn it to have something to bring the Rebbe. I don’t mind. But you know as well as I that our house is completely bare”.

But as she was talking to him, she noticed that he was eyeing her gold wedding band. She easily divined his thoughts, and happily removed her ring and handed it to him, telling him to get what he could for it, and bring it to the Rebbe.

Avremel was, needless to say, very embarrassed and uncomfortable about taking back his wife’s wedding ring (and becoming an “Indian giver”), but, seeing no other alternative, he accepted it. The ring was worth about 30-40 rubles, but R’ Avrohom, not being a man of business and therefore not knowing exactly how to go about getting the best price for it, decided to take it with him to Leningrad and sell it to one of the Chassidim there who deal in jewelry.

Sure enough, he made the trip, and when he arrived, he approached a fellow chosid and offered to sell him the ring. The chosid inquired as to where he had acquired it, and Avremel, put him off with meaningless platitudes.

But Chassidim, after all, are wise, and the chosid immediately ‘put two and two together’ and realized that this yungerman must be selling his wife’s wedding band in order to have something to bring to the Rebbe. The chosid, therefore, called together a few of his colleagues that evening and shared the story with them. He then places the ring on the table, and told them:

‘We will now auction off this ring. However, this will not be a standard auction; - instead, although the ring will go to the highest bidder, no-one else will get back their money. Everyone will place the amount of their bid – in cash – onto the table, and the entire accumulated sum will be handed over to the yungerman to give to the Rebbe’ (Chinese auction?)

They all complied, and when they were done, they had one thousand ruble to present to Avremel Zaltzman. The chosid who had organized the auction approached Avrohom the next day, and handed him the envelope, saying ‘the ring was sold, here is the money’. Avremel looked into the envelope, and almost fainted! A thousand ruble! ‘This is much too much’, he protested, ‘the ring was not worth more than 30 or 40 ruble’.

‘What concern is that of yours’, the chosid reprimanded him, ‘the ring was sold, now take your money’. But Avrohom was adamant; he refused to accept the money. Finally the chosid looked him in the eye, and said: “Listen, I know exactly what you did. Either you take the envelope and bring the money yourself to the Rebbe, or I will inform the entire city that you sold your wife’s wedding ring to have money to bring the Rebbe!’

The threat was effective, and Avremel took the envelope. When he entered the Rebbe’s room for yechidus, he handed over the money to the Rebbe, and then he burst into tears, and asked for a brocho for children. The Rebbe looked at him, and said “you will have children”. The Rebbe then repeated the statement, verbatim, a second time. And then a third time.

The Zaltzman’s ultimately bore 3 children, from whom are descended numerous Chassidim and shluchim today.

[After the third child, Mrs. Zaltzman wanted more children, and visited the same original physician to try to get help. The doctor looked at her and exclaimed ‘What are you doing here, I already told you that it’s impossible for you to have children?’ So she explained to him that since then she had indeed borne children, and she was visiting him because she wanted more.

The doctor was stunned to hear that, and he re-examined her. When he completed the examination he exclaimed: ‘Go to whoever gave you the last children and ask for more children, as far as I’m concerned it’s impossible for you to have children’].

Showing Kiruvim to the Rebbe

Rabbi Nachman Bernhard was the Rabbi of the largest shul in South Africa for about 5 decades. Before making the decision to move there, he visited the Rebbe, who encouraged him strongly to accept the position. He related the following about that yechidus: ‘It was after 1 a.m. when I entered the Rebbe's office and saw the Rebbe for the first time in my life. The yechidus lasted for over an hour. I felt as if the whole world around us had disappeared and it was only the Rebbe and I. In the yechidus, the Rebbe told me that Jewish life today is being devastated, as if by a fire, and whoever can extinguish the fire, must do so. The Rebbe pointed his finger at me: "You have no right to sit and become a talmid chacham." 

‘I still resisted. I said to the Rebbe: "I have already left an important position for the sake of my children's education. What will happen to them in South Africa?" By then, I had three daughters.

‘The Rebbe answered that the children of every Jew who devotes himself to communal work receive Divine protection. The Rebbe didn't exactly tell me "go," but he calmed my fears about going to South Africa.

‘When I went out of the Rebbe's room I said to myself, "I may not yet be a Lubavitcher Chasid, but from now on I am the Rebbe's Chasid!"

In 1974, after 10 years in South Africa, he made plans to move to Israel. He wanted to see the Rebbe to ask him to recommend someone to replace him. He relates the following about his yechidus at that time:

‘I flew to New York and went into yechidus, which lasted an hour and a half. The Rebbe told me how much I could accomplish in South Africa. Everyone can accomplish best in his own milieu, the Rebbe said, but it is much harder to have an effect in an alien environment. The Rebbe suggested that I remain in South Africa.

‘I let out a big sigh (having had my mind set on the move to Israel). The Rebbe suggested that I visit Israel frequently. I objected that these trips were very costly. The Rebbe smiled and said that he would pay for my ticket, and continued to encourage me to stay in South Africa.

‘Again I sighed, and again the Rebbe asked me, "Why are you sighing? You are fulfilling a Heavenly mission! The hundred thousand Jews that you can affect will bring G-d so much satisfaction!"

‘The Rebbe also spoke about himself. "Don't you think that I also want to be in Israel, near the holiness, but we have responsibilities”.

‘By now I knew that I would return to South Africa. I, however, wished to discuss it further, and I asked if I could have another yechidus on Sunday, to which the Rebbe acquiesced.

That Shabbos the Rebbe gave me extraordinary kiruvim, - extra measures of attention and encouragement. I appreciated this very much, and the first thing I said when I went into his room on Sunday was a word of thanks for the kiruvim.

"Kiruvim are a two-way street,” the Rebbe replied.

"Must I too show kiruvim to the Rebbe?!” I asked in wonder.

"Yes!” 

“What does the Rebbe mean? I have already agreed to accept the Rebbe's advice. I am staying in South Africa”. I asked.

"Yes”, said the Rebbe, “but your decision should not be made with the resignation of one who has reluctantly accepted a decree. Rather, it should come happily and good-heartedly!”

Speak to yourself

Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb related the following story

I didn't consider myself a Lubavitcher, but I lived in Crown Heights for a short time after I got married. I would attend the Rebbe’s farbrengens from time to time, but my relationship was always from a distance.

I mention this because of what happened later on.

Three years after we married, my wife and I moved away to Silver Spring, Maryland, where I attended the University of Maryland. I received a PhD in psychology and began working as a psychologist in the local school system. Besides this, I used to give classes in Talmud – one on Shabbos afternoon for the general public, and one on Tuesday night for a smaller group who wanted to learn on a deeper level.

I was in my early thirties, so I suppose I was too young for a midlife crisis – or maybe I arrived at a midlife crisis earlier than most people – but around this time, I was torn with a number of very pressing questions:

Should I stay in Torah learning, or should I continue in psychology? And if so, how should I further my career? Should I move into private psychotherapy work or accept an offer from one of the county social service organizations in the area? Also, I wasn't sure what was best for my children in terms of educational options in Silver Spring.

In addition to all these dilemmas, like everybody else I guess, I had my own questions of faith and trust in God, as well as some philosophical questions. I was in a state of uncertainty.

All these questions had me depressed, and I was unsure what to do or where to go. I spoke to various close friends, and one of them – a Chabad chosid – suggested that I visit the Rebbe.

And so it was that in February of 1971 I called the Rebbe.

The Rebbe’s secretary answered the phone in English, with a simple, “Hello, who’s this?”

Now as I was talking to the secretary, in the background – I recognized his voice from the farbrengens I had attended – the Rebbe was asking in Yiddish, “Who’s calling?”

I replied, “A Yid fun Maryland – A Jew from Maryland.”

I told the secretary that I have many questions which I would like to discuss with the Rebbe – questions about what direction my life should take, questions regarding my career, questions of faith… I explained that I was at a very uncertain stage in my life and I didn’t know where to turn.

I spoke in English and, as I was talking, the Rebbe’s secretary was repeating and paraphrasing my words in Yiddish – I imagine he was doing this so that the Rebbe should hear.

And then I heard the Rebbe say in the background, in Yiddish: “Tell him that there is a Jew who lives in Maryland that he can speak to. Der yid hayst Veinreb – his name is Weinreb.”

The secretary asked me, “Did you hear what the Rebbe said?”

Now, I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew for sure I had not given the secretary my name, but the Rebbe had just said my name! I was taken aback and I wanted to hear it again. So when the secretary asked whether I heard, I said no.

The secretary repeated the Rebbe’s words to me: “S’iz doh a Yid in Maryland mit vemen er zol redden. Zayn numen iz Veinreb.”

So I replied, “But my name is Weinreb!”

And then I heard the Rebbe say, “Oib azoi,zol er visen zayn az amol darf men reden tzu zich – If that’s the case, then he should know that, sometimes, one needs to speak to himself.”

The secretary also seemed stunned by what was taking place. He just stopped, and I could hear his breathing. And then he said to me, “The Rebbe said that sometimes it’s best to talk to yourself. Isn’t your name Weinreb?”

“Yes, my name is Weinreb, but maybe the Rebbe means a different Weinreb.”

“No, the Rebbe’s saying ‘Talk to Weinreb,’ and he explained that you must to talk to yourself.”

I thanked him very much, and the call ended with that.

I believe I understood what the Rebbe was trying to tell me. If I could put words in his mouth, he was saying, “You’re looking for answers outside yourself. You’re not a kid anymore, you’re a man. You are thirty years old, you are a father, you are a teacher of Torah. You have to have more self-confidence. It’s time to grow up and listen to yourself. Don’t be so dependent on others. Trust yourself.”

And from that point on I became much more decisive. I think up to that time I had a tendency to be very ambivalent, I was not a risk-taker, I was a procrastinator when it came to making decisions. But from that point on, I became decisive.

The Rebbe could have picked up the phone and told me what to do, but I wouldn't necessarily have listened to what he told me, and I wouldn't have accepted it in the same way I accepted this. Like many people, I suppose I had a natural resistance to being told by others what to do, and I think the Rebbe had insight to know that it was better if I heard the answer from myself than if I heard the answer from him.

That the Rebbe understood that, I think, was part of his great wisdom.

A few months after that life-changing phone call, there came an opportunity to express my gratitude to the Rebbe in person.I had come to visit my in-laws in Brooklyn and my father-in-law encouraged me to go to the Rebbe to thank him. The Rebbe was blessing people in a small public audience, and I went over to him and said, “My name is Weinreb and I’m from Maryland.” And he gave me a big smile of recognition.

I saw the Rebbe many times, and I saw many pictures of him, but that particular smile meant a lot for me.

From My Encounter

Continuing the conversation

A certain mekurav related the followins story:

“When our family was living in Flint, Michigan we started to gradually become closer to Yiddishkeit. One by one, new mitzvos became a part of our lifestyle.

“At that time some of the shluchim in the region spoke to me about visiting the Rebbe (= as part of the machaneh Yisroel development fund). I was, as yet, completely unfamiliar with Lubavitch or the Lubavitcher Rebbe, and I thought that Rebbe was another term for Rabbi, and that just like every Synagogue had its’ Rabbi (some who I was getting to know), there was a Rabbi for the Chabad Lubavitch movement who is called Rebbe.

“Primarily because of my fondness for the shliach who was encouraging me to do so, and in an effort to please him, I acquiesced.

“The first time I was in 770, I was near the front, and when the Rebbe passed by me he looked at me. Suddenly, I realized with absolute clarity why he’s referred to as the Rebbe. This is not another Rabbi; - this is the Rebbe!

“When my turn came to pass by the Rebbe the first time, the Rebbe spoke with me for a few moments. Then, to my utter surprise, he stopped. It was in the middle of a topic, – in the middle of a sentence, and he just stopped! It was sudden and abrupt, and – in my mind – there was no rhyme or reason for him to stop there. But my turn was over, and I had to move on.

“Some 6 months later, I had the next opportunity to visit the Rebbe, and my turn came to approach, my amazement was much greater. Despite the time that had passed, and the thousands of people that he had met in the interim, he began his conversation at exactly the point at which he had left off all those months before!”

REBBE, HELP!

A chossid belonging to a different chassidic group went to Los Angeles and met a childhood friend who had become a Lubavitcher. He asked him: Why did you become a Lubavitcher? The man said, I’ll tell you what happened and you tell me what kind of Chassid I ought to be.

This is what the man said:

Shortly after I moved to California, my wife did not feel well. Tests were done and they discovered she has cancer. The doctors said she had a few months left to live. I was shaken up and I began to say T’hillim in tears. In the middle of praying, I cried out: Rebbe, help!

Naturally, I was referring to my own Rebbe, but a short while later I received a phone call from New York. The man on the line said he was R’ Chadakov and he said: The Rebbe said you should remove your wife from the hospital and take her to a certain doctor.

I was so shaken up that I did not pay sufficient attention to what he said. After I recovered from the initial shock, I began to wonder who this R’ Chadakov was and what connection he had to me.

When I met R’ Shmuel Dovid Raichik, I asked him whether he knew a R’ Chadakov. He told me this was the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s secretary. I asked R’ Shmuel Dovid for R’ Chadakov’s phone number. When I reached him, I asked: What is this about? I didn’t ask the Rebbe anything.

He said: I don’t know anything about it. I just did what the Rebbe told me to do. R’ Chadakov warned me that if I wanted it to work out well, I should do as the Rebbe said.

Considering this is a Baal-Shemsker story, I went to the hospital and took my wife out against the doctors’ orders. Then I called the doctor whom the Rebbe had recommended and asked for an appointment. The secretary told me that I should come back in a year.

As I didn’t have a year to wait, I simply went to the doctor’s office and knocked on the door and said that I needed an appointment. After the doctor tried sending me back to the secretary, I said: I want to tell you something incredible. I told him what happened. After hearing this he said: If that’s the situation, bring her in tomorrow. I brought my wife and he treated her and she was cured.

Concluded the Chassid: Years have gone by and my wife and I and my children are Boruch Hashem all well. Now tell me, whose Chassid should I be?

From Beis Moshiach Magazine

Merkos Shlichus

A couple from Kelowna, who are fine and well-to-do yidden.  The first Shabbos that they came to the local Chabad house Friday night for davening and seudas Shabbos, for some reason, the wife was asked to share an inspiring story and this was it:

4 years ago, 2 bochurim came to Kelowna on Merkos Shlichus and (presumably because this couple is wealthy and influential) the bochurim stayed by them for the 2 weeks that they were there. So, of course she told how they made Shabbos at their home, and bought new dishes and about how shetoiveled them in the lake (the dishes, that is, not the bochurim) etc. They had a great experience, they made kiddush, had a seudas shabbos with guests . . all of it was amazing. She even told about how they would come home at night and tell over their success stories from their Merkos Shlichus, and how she and her husband would love hearing them!

But, what was the most amazing thing that she remembered, and what really made the strongest impression on her (she continued), was when she woke up Shabbos morning . . and she heard loud noises from outside screaming. She listened closer, and hears that 2 people are in a deep heated argument (or discussion). The noise is coming from very close to her house, and as she pays closer attention, she realizes that the source of the sounds is on her own back porch.  It is none other than her guests, the 2 bochurim!

She doesn't really understand but it seems that the boys are discussing the portion of the week, and they’re all into it like it’s such a big deal! She couldn't believe it! She was so impressed that this is what was important to them, and so early in the morning, to boot. She was so impressed at their enthusiasm for the torah portion. (They were actually probably learning chassidus before davenen but) more than anything else this is what really stuck out in her memory, and that she wanted to share).

This was the couple’s first positive experience with Chabad, and it had such an impact on them that it ultimately led to the fact that BH they partnered with the shluchim in a significant way, and they are very close with them now. Before this they would never had thought that they could join Chabad.

He is home and He has what to give

Berel was a chossid of the Chozeh of Lublin. He was the local batlan - he would spend his entire day in shul davening and learning. He was able to survive because once in a while, his rich brother, Shmuel, would give him some money to cover his basic expenses. As time went on, his 3 daughters reached marriageable age and his wife started pleading with him that he should ask Shmuel for some money to be able to marry them off. After refusing for a long time, he eventually gave in.

Leaving his poor neighborhood, on the way to his brother’s house, which was located on the other side of town, where the affluent people lived, Berel had plenty of time to think. Different doubts started to rise in his mind: “Maybe Shmuel’s not home, and if he is home, maybe he doesn’t have the money to give me, and even if he does, maybe he’s not going to want to give me…” After all, Shmuel was not tremendously supportive of Berel's life choices.

With these thoughts, he approached Shmuel's house. Walking up the steps to the house, he was thinking “But there is Someone Who is always home, Who has what to give, and Who wants to give, why am I coming here?”

Berel turned around and went straight home. Coming home, to his surprise, he found the house empty. A few hours later, his wife came home with a large sum of money, and told him the following story:

“Right after you left on your way to Shmuel’s house, a fancy carriage pulled up in front of our house and a few noble looking people started to knock on our door. When I opened it, they told me that the Poritz had gone mad, and being that the regular doctors weren’t able to help, they wanted me to come and to heal him. I tried to tell them that I am not a miracle worker, all I do is upshprech ayin horas, but they didn’t listen

“Having no choice, I went along. When I came to the Poritz, I did what I know how to do, and to my great surprise, he regained his senses. Thanking me for my work, he rewarded me with this large amount of money. Now we can marry off our daughters and support ourselves for a long time”

Berel decided to travel to his Rebbe and tell him the whole story. As soon as he walked in to have his private audience, the Chozeh told him “He’s home, He has and He wants to give.”